welcome

[tabetha lilah sinclair]

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Tabetha to find herself in the headmasters office. Sometimes it was for coming into class late, or a violation of the dress code, or for talking back. Today though, she had simply fallen asleep during class. It had taken the teacher ten minutes to even notice she had fallen asleep in the first place, and as he shook her awake, he made her go to the headmasters office. Falling asleep wasn’t even an offense. Sure, it was rude and the most she could get for it was a lunch detention or some crap like that, Tabetha was still pissed. It wasn’t her fault she had been up all night. Well, technically it was, but that wasn’t the point. Tabetha needed to go clubbing, or else she wouldn’t be able to concentrate at school. Usually she was able to keep herself from falling asleep when she had been up all night partying, but a whole week in a row of no sleep was finally hitting her.

So, there she was, sitting in the wooden bench of the headmasters office, bored out of her mind. Usually she didn’t have to wait this long, but apparently he wasn’t exactly there. Tabetha didn’t get what could be taking up so much of his time. Being a headmaster of a school didn’t take to much work. She wanted to get out of here and go into an empty classroom and sleep for the rest of the period. Tabetha even considered taking the day off, but decided not to; school meant too much to her Grandma. She was a heartless bitch, yeah, but her grandma was the only exception. Tabetha loved her grandma.


Sighing, Tabetha rubbed her eyes, which should and usually had dark bags under them, but today they were smaller than usual. Maybe it was the little nap she had taken in class? They were still a bit sunken in, but thanks to their color they looked somewhat alive, the shocking blue of them lighting up her oddly pretty face. Her skin was an almost deadly ivory, but somehow it worked on her. She kept her golden hair in a messy updue that gave her this cool laid back look. Her shirt was a loose black and white striped tank top, with a black velvet long V neck fitted jacket over it, just allowing the top of the shirt to show and a bit of the bottom. The pants she wore were dark grey skinny jeans, her shoes plain black flats. There was no reason to look her best for school, Tabetha couldn’t care less about school. School was just a thing she went to too make her grandma happy, nothing else.

Tabetha lifted her head up and leaned back, her head against the wall, looking up. Crossing her legs in a stylish manner, she looked down, and noticed the receptionist was looking at her. Giving her a glare, Tabetha couldn’t help but smirk as the receptionist went back to her work. She liked to play with people, treat them like they were toys and have fun. Tabetha knew she was flawed, and couldn’t care less. It was her life, and if someone wanted to change her, they had to try had. She liked what she did; she deserved what she did. All the drugs, all the drinking, partying, and sleeping around. Tabetha knew what she did was wrong, but that didn’t stop her. She was punishing herself, for everything.

Yawning, she got her bag and pulled out her cell phone. She was outside of class, technically, it didn’t matter if she was on it. Checking her voice mails, texts messages and everything else, Tabetha yawned again. She was getting pissed off now, waiting here for some old man. It was a good thing she was tired though, because if she was just pissed off, she would a million times worse. Right now Tabetha just wanted a comfy bed to sleep on, so that ruled out the anger a bit. Running her fingers through the loose strands of hair, she sighed again, and waited the headmaster to come, or for something that would keep her entertained until he did.

[marcelo rodrigo de costa]

"It's been a hard day's night and I've been working like a dog," Marcelo sang cheerfully as he tapped his hands on his jean clad legs, his head bobbing slightly. He received a few strange looks from the open doors of classroom as he passed by. The weird, foreign kid who barely spoke a word of English, but was singing...the Beatles? Ignoring them, he continued singing his song and marching his way down the hall. You wouldn't know that the boy had just been kicked out of class. A smile graced his lips, even though only moments before he'd been in a shouting match with his European literature teacher. If the old bat was able to understand a word of Marcelo's clipped and quick Portuguese, she would have known she was beat. That wasn't the case, though, and Marcelo was soon on the familiar walk to the headmaster's office.

Unlike most, however, Marcelo didn't have one problem with going to the headmaster's office. He'd seen the old man enough in the year he'd been at Karl Emery's, and his short time at St. Tristan's was no different. Although he wasn't exactly 'buddy buddy' with the headmaster, was there really anything wrong with getting out of class? School for Marcelo, was complete and total torture. With all the books and stiff desk chairs and...learning. Ugh, just thinking about having to go to university next year made him shutter. Obviously, education was not Marcelo's strong point. He thrived on the sport's field and in the gym, but in a class room just forget about it. Sometimes he got so frustrated with pouring over words he couldn't understand and formulas that flew right over his head, that he made up plans of how to get kicked out of class. There was the typical refusing to do his work. Eating in class. Throwing things. Picking fights with classmates. Marcelo had done it all.

Today had actually been quite a different story. Marcelo had been far from trying to get out of class. There'd been a story in his lit book that he'd shocking read before, of course at the time it had been in Spanish, but close enough for Marcelo. The one time he'd been interested in anything remotely educational and suddenly the professor was screaming at him for not 'paying attention'. So he'd called her a 'puta' and told her to 'cheira o meu saco', none of which she understood, but it was enough to get him at least a detention or two. The only things that Marcelo was really disappointed about: not getting to finish the damn story and having to miss soccer practice for the dumb bitch.

Marcelo's voice got louder as he entered through the doors to the office, "But when I get home to you I find the things that you do, will make me feel alright." He sang the last few words directly to the secretary. She'd told him to take a seat beside some girl who was already in there, but in a pure act of vanity and rebellion, Marcelo sat on her desk, picked up a stapler, and proceeded to fix his slightly jelled up hair. His fingers slid through his dark, short, and neatly cropped locks with expertise. For a straight boy, Marcelo was riding a thin line of being considered metro-sexual, even though he didn't have a clue what that meant. It wasn't his fault he had a weakness for expensive clothes, like the designer jeans he was wearing, and was worried about his hair then most teenage girls. Having pulled this act before, Marcelo was swatted away and after a few moments finally moved over to take a seat next to what must have been a fellow waitee. Without a hint of shyness, he looked over at the girl with a warm smile. "Olá!" he said offhandedly, linking his fingers together and resting them casually in his lap.

[tabetha lilah sinclair]

She had been half asleep as the boy walked into the office, singing The Beatles loudly. She smiled at the song, and mouthed the last words to herself just as he finished. They were among her favorite bands, and any reference to them made her happy. Music was one of her passions, right next to art. She hated the sad excuses for bands that they had now a days, and every time that she heard a good band from the glory days of rock and roll, she smiled. If it hadn’t been for those last lyrics, Tabetha would have lay down on the bench and gone to sleep. Instead, she watched the boy with full attention, her crystal blue eyes following him as he sat on the desk and styled his hair with the stapler. She let a smug smirk spread across her lips, as her eyes kept their attentive staring. Humans were so entertaining, with all the antics and feelings.

Tabetha, with all her hype about hating people, really actually though they were quite interesting. She liked to watch them and observe what they did. It was like watching an animal, seeing it in it’s natural habitat and watching what it did in each situation. Playing with them was fun as well, and it was sort of a sick habit of hers. She liked to experiment with people, observe them and then put them in awkward situations. If she was messed up for being like that, it didn’t matter to her. She didn’t care about anyone but herself. Well, maybe her grandmother, but it didn’t matter. Tabetha was a rare type of human, but then again, aren’t every single one of us rare?

She yawned just as he sat down next to her, looking away from him for a couple seconds. She closed her eyes and flipped her hair unconsciously as he turned her head back at him, hearing him speak. Tabetha opened her eyes, and let their light color meet his own dark as they squinted at him. Had he just spoken in…Portuguese? She had grown up among people from different countries, and her parents had often gone to Brazil for all the fashion shows. She herself though, only knew Spanish well, her Portuguese was limited. It filled her with a bit of remorse to hear the language, as it made her think of her parents. Yet the second her heart warmed up, it turned cold again, as her tiredness and the present came back. She really was an ice queen.

Tabetha gave the boy a sly smile, as the look in her eyes grew slightly nicer, however still scary. It was almost impossible for Tabetha to look innocent or nice. She tilted her head a bit to the side as she said, her voice slightly accented as she tried her best at pronouncing it right but still calm as ever, “ Oi, E aí? ” It was among the few Portuguese that she knew, and she wasn’t even sure if it was right in the first place. Point was, if she made a fool of herself, it didn’t matter. Tabetha couldn’t care less about what some boy thought. She was bored, and was simply looking for something to entertain her.